The Gate

Just what North London needed - another gastropub trying to elevate the humble local boozer into something "special." The Gate in London has all the predictable trappings: exposed brick, carefully curated craft beers, and a menu that can't decide if it wants to be pub grub or fine dining. I rolled my eyes so hard when I walked in, I nearly gave myself a headache.

But damn it all if this place hasn't wormed its way into my reluctant affections.

Maybe it was the moment I realized the outdoor seating wasn't just a sad collection of wobbly tables thrown onto the pavement as an afterthought. The Gate actually bothered to create an atmosphere that makes you want to linger over that second (or third) glass of surprisingly well-chosen wine. The space feels like someone's particularly well-maintained garden, minus the passive-aggressive neighborhood politics.

Inside, they've managed to walk that precarious line between "cozy pub" and "Instagram backdrop" without falling into either trap. The lighting is dim enough to be flattering but bright enough that you can actually read the menu without employing your phone's torch feature - a concept that seems to elude most London establishments these days.

Let's talk about the food, shall we? The kitchen clearly knows what they're doing, even if they're charging prices that make me question my life choices. The sea bass is consistently excellent - perfectly crisp skin, flesh that flakes just so, and accompaniments that actually complement rather than compete with the fish. Their take on pub classics shows similar restraint and skill. The ribs, which could easily venture into chain restaurant territory, are instead a masterclass in proper smoking and seasoning.

What truly pains me to admit is how well they handle the basics. The chips are proper chips - none of that triple-cooked nonsense that's more about showing off than eating. The garlic bread (yes, I ordered garlic bread in what's ostensibly a gastropub, judge away) actually tastes of garlic rather than mere suggestion of it.

Service manages to hit that sweet spot between attentive and hovering, though on busy evenings you might need to exercise some patience. The staff actually seem to know what they're talking about when you ask about the menu or wine list, which is refreshingly uncommon in London's mid-range establishments.

They've made concessions to modern dining demands without becoming precious about it. Yes, there are vegetarian options that aren't just mushroom risotto. Yes, they're child-friendly without letting the place devolve into a nursery. And yes, they take cards, including contactless, because they've apparently heard of the 21st century.

The parking situation could be better - there's some free parking available, both in their lot and on the street, but during peak times you might find yourself circling the block like a hungry vulture. Then again, this is London; if you're expecting convenient parking, you're in the wrong city entirely.

What The Gate in London has managed to achieve is something rather special, and it pains me deeply to acknowledge this. They've created a proper local that's worth traveling to, a pub that serves restaurant-quality food without losing its soul, and a place where you can take both your fussy foodie friends and your traditional parents without either group feeling out of place.

Fine. I admit it. The Gate is good. Really good. Book a table, especially for evening service or weekends. Just don't tell them I sent you - I have a reputation to maintain as London's most cynical diner, and they've already damaged it enough by being genuinely worth visiting.